


Mr. Brightside

by keiikis



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, Porn With Plot, Unrequited Love, too much plot this was supposed to be porn yikes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28768662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiikis/pseuds/keiikis
Summary: Tubbo has always been a constant in Tommy's life, but when the whole “friends with benefits and also unspoken feelings” situation goes to shit, he has no one to blame but himself.
Relationships: Ranboo/Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo/TommyInnit
Comments: 32
Kudos: 263





	Mr. Brightside

**Author's Note:**

> It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?  
> (It was only a kiss), it was only a kiss

Tubbo and Tommy have... a history. 

That's putting it lightly but the two of them have been connected at the hip for as long as Tommy can remember. He trusts Tubbo with his life, and he knows the same is true for the other boy. 

They’ve never really addressed it but Tommy can see the signs, he can tell that Tubbo blushes when their hands are almost touching, he can sense the longing stares Tubbo sends his way when he thinks he’s not looking, he knows that Tubbo has stolen one too many of his hoodies for it to be merely an “accident”. He’s not an idiot.

Yes, he knows about Tubbo's crush on him but they’re in the middle of a war for something greater, something more important than first kisses and whispered “I love you’s”. Independence is at stake and he knows Tubbo is willing to push his feelings down for the sake of their nation.

So he ignores it, pushes it to the side in favor of battle plans and drug operations. (He doesn’t acknowledge the tiny voice in his head that protests at his refusal to deal with the... problem. The voice is small but it whispers ideas, scenarios so realistic they’re almost tangible, of picnic dates, of stargazing on warm summer nights, of holding hands on the bench and kissing while soft melodies ring through the sounds of the evening.) 

Tommy isn’t a fool, no. 

But he is a coward.

That’s why, when the night before their final battle Tubbo climbs into his bed, eyes red and dried tear tracks painting his face, Tommy doesn’t say a thing. He doesn’t say a thing when Tubbo slides his thin fingers down the side of Tommy’s cheek, cupping the blonde's face in his hands. He doesn’t say a thing when Tubbo leans towards him, eyes squeezed shut in fear of rejection. 

What he does is kiss back with a passion that surprises even himself. When they part for a much needed breath, Tubbo’s eyes are blown wide open and he’s panting, soft breaths fanning against Tommy’s cheeks. 

Tommy gives him a look as if to dare him to say a thing, and then yanks a fistful of Tubbo’s shirt. Actually... now that he’s looking closer, it’s his own shirt that Tubbo has stolen. 

The possessive part in him croons at the thought of marking Tubbo as his, staking his rightful claim. But his war-ridden side, bitter with the aftertaste of recent loss insists that Tubbo is a weakness. A liability that the enemy will only exploit in the future. 

Tommy blocks out the rest of his muddled thoughts by having the most intense (or rather, only) makeout session of his life. Tubbo whines into his mouth and shifts so that he’s on top of Tommy. 

He’s hard, but Tommy is too so he does the only logical thing in their current situation and yanks Tubbo’s pants down, messily palming at his growing erection. He tugs at the hem of Tubbo’s oversized shirt and Tubbo wordlessly lifts his arms up, pointedly avoiding eye contact. 

Tommy sucks a mark into the side of Tubbo's pale neck, the smooth skin there bruising immediately, so beautifully, just for Tommy. He's the only person Tubbo has done this with, he thinks. The thought of Tubbo letting anyone else see him like this fills him with unexplainable... rage. Which is stupid because Tubbo isn’t his of course. But. 

He bites down harshly on one of Tubbo’s nipples in retaliation and the other boy yelps, quickly slapping both of his hands over his mouth.

“What was that for?” he half-complains half-whispers indignantly. He opens his mouth again to protest but Tommy shuts him up by kissing the mark in apology and lightly sucking, twisting his other nipple roughly. Tubbo stuffs a fist into his mouth to muffle his moan, glaring at Tommy for the rough treatment.

Well, it’s not like Tubbo expected anything different from Tommy. He tries to imagine a sweet and caring Tommy, asking his partner if they’re okay and reassuring them while he thrusts in, peppering their face in soft kisses. Nah, Tubbo prefers this Tommy, this wild and unrestrained Tommy who knows what he wants and takes it just like that. 

Tubbo tugs impatiently at Tommy's sweatpants. He feels awkward being the only one naked even though they’re under the covers. Tommy's covers. He flushes as the weight of their situation slowly dawns on him. 

He thought Tommy would have kicked him out ages ago but here they are, Tommy shimmying out of his pants and shirt, and Tubbo staring mesmerized at the expanse of uncovered skin. Cuts and bruises litter Tommy's arms and legs, reminders of a war unfinished.

Ironically, their first time is slow. As much as Tommy doesn’t want to admit it, he’s savoring the moment. Tubbo throws his head back and moans, hiding his face in his arms the same way he does when he laughs at something particularly funny.

For all of the harsh kisses and rough marks on porcelain skin Tommy leaves in the beginning, Tommy is surprisingly gentle with Tubbo. Tubbo closes his eyes and pretends that they’re not two kid soldiers fighting a war that they’re not supposed to.

When Tommy wakes up the next morning, Tubbo is gone. It’s almost as if he was never there and if Tommy tries hard enough, he could probably convince himself that it was a vivid wet dream. 

(But he doesn’t want to, and when he meets Tubbo’s eyes during their last strategy meeting and the shorter boy blushes, predictable as ever, something in Tommy's heart shifts. In what direction he’s still confused but all he knows is that yes, L’manberg is a place he’s fighting for, but he would fight a hundred dreams and die a hundred deaths to protect the boy sitting across from him.)

-

They don’t win. Tommy's mind is still cloudy from Eret’s betrayal when he challenges Dream to the bow duel but he needs to do something, anything, to prove that the war they’d been fighting for months wasn’t for nothing. 

Wilbur and Tubbo stare horrified, at his corpse. Tommy has heard tales of the infamous respawning process, even experienced it himself along with his fellow soldiers moments before. But nothing, not even experience, prepares him again for the pain, the confusion, and the... nothingness. Only a few minutes have probably passed in the real world but Tommy feels so, so alone. The black emptiness consumes him, and the solitude chipping away at his soul hurts more than the pain of a thousand needles pricking at the wound on his forehead where Dream shot him.

When he comes to, his head is in Tubbo's lap he can hear Wilbur arguing with Dream. Tubbo’s tears drip onto his own face, startling him awake. 

“You idiot,” Tubbo sobs above him. “You absolute idiot. Why would you throw away one of your lives like that?”

Tommy sits up abruptly, making the other boy flinch back. “Don’t tell me what i can or can’t do with my life. It's  _ my _ life Tubbo.” 

It’s harsh, but true. Tommy makes his way to where Dream and Wilbur are arguing, head ringing and vision blurry. There's only one option left.

“Dream, I need to talk to you.” he says.

(They gain their damn independence. Wilbur signs the declaration with a confident speech and a mocking tone. They celebrate, but the hole in Tommy's enderchest is as hollow as the victory feels in his heart.)

Those disks were his pride and joy. He'd fought Dream for them through thick and thin with Tubbo at his side. Loyal Tubbo, whose smile could power a small country and whose heart remained untainted by the cruelty of war. 

That night, they sneak out while Wilbur and Fundy drink to celebrate. Tubbo tears Tommy's bloodstained uniform off and pushes him onto the bed. Tommy is about to snap at him for the rough treatment (he’s still recovering okay?) but Tubbo’s eyes are filled with unshed tears and an emotion that Tommy can’t place.

Tubbo doesn’t let the tears flow until he lowers himself down onto Tommy's cock, slow and controlled. He rides Tommy like it’s their last night on earth and the world is blowing up tomorrow. Which is dumb because it was already blown up yesterday. Tommy knows that Tubbo is getting close when he angles his hips and thrusts up, and Tubbo gives a full body shiver, legs trembling with the effort to stay in their position. 

Tommy does it again and Tubbo collapses against his chest, whining into the crook of his neck. They stay like that for a second, before Tommy grabs Tubbo's slim waist and flips their position. 

“I'm here,” he pants, voice gravelly from moaning. “I’m here and I’m not leaving anytime soon so stop fucking crying and let me take care of you.” 

The waterworks are really going now. Tubbo shuts his eyes and nods, not trusting himself to speak. 

This time they’re rough, rushed like they’re trying to finish a race. Tubbo digs his nails into the back of Tommy's shoulders and wraps strong legs around his waist. 

This night, it’s a distraction, a shared understanding that the world is shit and nothing is fair. It’s the mourning of their non-existent childhood, of the peaceful days that seemed to go on forever. Now those days are a haze, lost to explosions of TNT and walls cast from lava.

Life goes on. Tubbo still casts hopeful glances in Tommy's direction but they never do talk about those two passionate nights. More people join the server and Tommy is whisked away into the frenzy of new drug cartels and humorous escapades, each more ridiculous than the last. 

He hopes Tubbo will forget those nights. It’s not like Tommy regrets it, it’s just... it doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t feel ready, a small voice in his brain says.  _ Shut up brain _ , he thinks. 

The next few months go by in a blur. Elections and exile and rebellion and Techno and Dream and skirmishes and- Tommy doesn’t have time to think, much less ponder the possibility of a relationship.

Tubbo looks exhausted, sneaking from Pogtopia to L’manberg via their hidden tunnel. They barely speak anymore, Tubbo just rattles off information to Wilbur and scurries back to the White House, lest he be found out by Schlatt. 

And Wilbur... Wilbur is changing. Tommy sees the seed of doubt and mistrust planted in Wilbur's heart grow into a twisted tree, evil roots digging into his skin. Wilbur is slowly becoming a monster, and all Tommy can do is sit there and watch. 

In the few precious moments that he has with Tubbo, he warns the older of Wilbur's descent into madness. Tubbo is the only one he can trust. They talk about running away together, leaving the war and destruction behind them. They have everything they care about. The allure of a small cottage, far away from violence and chaos, tempts them, visions of peaceful days dancing across their tired eyes. 

But they can’t abandon Wilbur. Not when he’s like this, not when he needs them the most. Their fantasy will have to wait. The festival creeps up on them and so does the all-consuming dread that something is about to go terribly horribly wrong.

Tommy’s gut feeling is right. When the bright flare of Techno’s firework settles and Tubbo’s bloodied, broken body flickers, preparing to respawn, Tommy feels like throwing up. Betrayed once again, he thinks. Techno stutters out excuses but the damage has been done.

-

Tubbo wakes up with burn marks painting his arms and face and a new fear of fireworks. 

It’s funny, he muses as Tommy fingers him that night, how they only fuck after one of them dies. He’s jolted out of his thoughts by Tommy hitting his prostate with his stupidly long fingers.

Tubbo has long since given up hope that Tommy reciprocates his feelings but his dumb heart won’t let him get rid of his feelings that easily. He inhales sharply as Tommy pushes in another finger. 

“Are you okay?” Tommy asks, softly. Too softly. Fuck, Tubbo’s heart flutters at the gentle tone and he curses himself again for falling for someone as unattainable as Tommy. 

He nods, and Tommy begins to ruthlessly hit that spot inside of him until he sees stars. Tubbo can’t do anything but moan Tommy's name, the only thing he can do is whine and chant Tommy’s name like a mantra. 

Tubbo pretends again for the night, that they’re just two boys, in love. No wars, no exile, no festival, no betrayals. Tommy makes it so easy to forget about everything else. 

-

Tubbo wakes up to Tommy’s arms wrapped around him, in an unfamiliar bed and a distinct lack of er… clothing. He doesn’t move just yet, just closes his eyes and revels in this fleeting moment of tranquility. 

Tommy’s breaths are slow and his sleeping face looks so much younger than Tubbo is used to seeing it. He thinks back to Tommy on the battlefield, Tommy being exiled from L’manberg, Tommy desperately trying to reason with Wilbur, Tommy screaming his name as Technoblade pointed the rocket launcher at his head and- 

Tubbo exhales, willing the intrusive thoughts away. He had pretty much forgiven Techno already so there was no use in bringing back the past. He tucks a lock of hair behind the taller boy’s ears, who leans into the touch before going back to snoring softly again. Tubbo wants to laugh at how absurd their situation is, but Tommy is sleeping and he doesn’t want to disturb him.

Here he was, being all domestic when just yesterday he had been mercilessly executed during a festival he was in charge of planning. In front of the entire server. Tubbo still can’t believe that he was lured into a sense of false security, playing into the role of being Schlatt’s “right hand man” when the only man he would follow till his death was sleeping right here next to him. 

He wiggles out of Tommy’s hold and tries to stop his heart from hurting when Tommy chases his warmth in his sleep. It hurts, the way Tommy is only honest when he’s asleep (or fucking Tubbo into oblivion). Tubbo pulls the sheets over Tommy’s sleeping body, still reaching out to Tubbo’s side of the bed, and tells his dumb feelings to suck it up. 

-

This time, it’s not Tubbo who seeks out Tommy the night before the Pogtopian revolution. Tommy barges into Tubbo’s room without any prior notice, rips his blankets off, and Tubbo almost rolls his eyes at how dramatic the other boy is being. Well… they  _ were _ both on their last lives and it’s not like he’s going to ever deny Tommy. (Excuses, he chides himself. Flimsy excuses for his crush, still alive after years of unspoken rejection.)

Tommy starts off gentle again, which pisses Tubbo off for many reasons that he doesn’t want to think too hard about. He pushes his tongue deeper into Tommy’s mouth and kisses hungrily, hoping the other boy will understand and follow his lead. Tommy kisses back with the same passion and hunger, but his touches are still gentle, large hands smoothing down Tubbo’s back and coming back up to comb through his messy brown hair. 

The touches meant to be comforting instead sicken Tubbo to his stomach. Tonight’s the last night, he tells himself. This has to stop, he can’t pretend any longer, can’t shove his ever apparent feelings on a back burner and expect to come out unharmed. Tonight’s the night he finally admits to himself that these feelings aren’t a crush and never were. 

‘Unrequited love’ sounds much more harsh than ‘unrequited crush’ but he can’t lie to himself any longer, especially not with the possibility of losing their last lives tomorrow hanging over their heads. 

  
  


-

Tubbo stumbles onto the stage, mind jumbled and heart thudding with the adrenaline from the battle. President? He was just a kid! Why would Wilbur give away his pride and joy, his unfinished symphony to someone like Tubbo? 

“Give us a speech!” someone says, and Tubbo eyes the eerily familiar position on the podium. 

He can almost smell his own blood, can see dark red staining the walls of the too-bright yellow concrete amidst the flashes of red white and blue sparks. Wilbur’s entrusted him with this position though, so he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before beginning. 

As he looks out across the audience, a pit of dread forms in his stomach and makes his hairs stand on end. Something’s not right. Surely it can’t end like this? 

When nothing happens and he walks off the stage to the cheers of the citizens of his new country, the dread doesn’t disappear. Appointing Tommy as his vice is a given, he wouldn’t have anyone else standing next to him. Tommy grabs his shoulders and looks into his eyes, searching for something. Tubbo stares back into pools of ocean blue, filled with an emotion Tubbo knows is reflected in his own eyes, and in that moment, he knows that everything will be okay as long as he has Tommy. 

Tommy opens his mouth as if to say something, but then snaps it back shut after looking at the crowd that is beginning to form around them. He turns his back to Tubbo and starts to walk away. 

The impact of Techno’s firework hitting his back is nothing compared to the pain Tubbo feels in his chest as he sees Tommy run away from his feelings, from whatever the fuck their relationship is, yet again. 

The world fades to black and Tubbo welcomes the nothingness. 

-

“Come walk with me Tubbo,” Tommy says. Tubbo’s eyes prickle with tears. Oh, how he’s missed that phrase. It reminds him of their childhood days, of petty conflicts and scheming, of harmless pranks, of walking up and down a wooden path that used to be the heart of the server. 

Wilbur is gone, Schlatt is gone. L’manberg is gone, for the second time. Tommy leads him up the path to their bench. 

“Me and you, versus Dream” he says, and grabs Tubbo’s hand. Tubbo flinches, not expecting the aggressive move, but relaxes when he sees how nervous Tommy is. 

The blonde is turning red and his palms are sweaty, fingers clenching around Tubbo’s smaller hand like he’s trying to make sure Tubbo is real, still alive, still here. Tubbo squeezes Tommy’s hand in response and knocks their shoulders together. 

They sit down at the bench overlooking their country, watching the blood red sun dip beneath the tree line. The melody of ‘Blocks’ rings out, and Tubbo is flooded again with a wave of nostalgia. Tommy is still holding his hand, grip less tight than before but still firm enough that Tubbo can’t pull his hand away, even if he wanted to (which he doesn’t). 

It’s now or never, he thinks. Confess here or forever hold his peace. 

“Tommy, I need to-”

“Tubbo, I’ve been thinking-”

They look at each other incredulously, and burst out laughing. Tubbo slides closer to Tommy on the bench, and Tommy doesn’t protest like he usually would. 

Tommy closes his eyes and mutters something underneath his breath that Tubbo can’t quite catch. His ears are still kind of ringing from the fireworks and the wither explosions. 

“What did you say?” he asks, but his blood turns to ice when he sees who’s approaching their spot on the bench out of the corner of his eyes. 

Dream smirks at the pair, and eyes the jukebox which is still playing. The notes, once familiar and comforting now sound almost haunting in his presence. Tommy snaps his hand back to his lap, as if he’s been burnt. 

By the time Dream is done with his monologue, Tubbo no longer has that naive courage running through him, yelling at him to spill his heart out to Tommy. Tommy looks shaken up, and Tubbo is reminded again of how unfair life is to them. The weight of an entire nation is on their shoulders. The shoulders of two sixteen year olds. They’ve been abandoned, betrayed, by the people they trusted the most. Technoblade is gone, but Wilbur is… permanently gone. His last words echo in Tubbo’s head. 

“Tubbo, you are now president of a crater.” 

Tubbo allows himself one last time, to look at Tommy and see the boy he loves, has loved since the beginning. He lets the emotion, the affection and adoration, swell up in his chest. He lets himself feel for a second, the feelings he’s repressed for so long.  _ I love him, _ he thinks, and lets the tears drip silently down his face.  _ I love him, I love him, I love him.  _

Then he does what he does best. 

Ever since he was young, Tubbo’s always been fascinated with space. The allure of the unknown, mysteries yet to be discovered by human hands, everything about it captivates him to no end.

He likes to compare his love for Tommy to the intensity of a brilliant star. A star so massive that it outshines the sun, or any of the biggest and brightest stars in their galaxy. He can almost see the core of this star, swirling with heat and pressure, keeping the gravity at equilibrium. His star, his Tommy, is captivating in its beauty, but deep down he knows what he has to do next. 

Tubbo grabs the core and yanks it out of the damn star. The merciless vacuum of space, no longer held back by any counteracting pressure, consumes his heart in milliseconds. The star collapses in on itself and explodes into a blazing supernova, as dazzling as a billion fireworks shows. 

The black hole rapidly forming in his chest swallows up the debris, the doubt and the hope, the passion, the anger, the tenderness, the intimacy. 

It swallows everything and leaves behind a compact mass of nothingness where love used to be. 

**Author's Note:**

> i am now having my angst arc. fear me, fluffy fic kei is no more. they're dead. ranboo will be introduced next chapter and immediately sweep tubbo off of his feet. you thought this chapter was angst? fools. you don't know what's coming :)


End file.
